The Fear
by detective-smartypants
Summary: For exactly 8 months, you have known that Jane loves you back. You just dont tell her. Post Hoyt fic in which Jane is finding things hard.
1. Chapter 1

**There's a hundred million stories like this, but I wrote this up a long time ago and never had the guts to put it up. It's a two parter, and this chapter took a long time to finish so I hope it was worth it. **

On a Sunday, Jane wears pyjamas. It's one of the first things you learn about her. She wears pyjama's and eats dinner on the sofa and forgets about her life as a cop.

On a saturday, she runs.

On a Friday, she chases.

She's complex, you know that much. She doesn't give much away about herself, but she always likes to learn about you. She cares. A lot.

She's hard working. She's smart; smarter than she allows others to believe.

She's beautiful.

You meet her outside the precinct and she is holding two coffees. Her hair is a strangled web of black curls and her face holds its usual stern expression. She's tired, you can always tell when she is tired. You recently learned about Hoyt. You'd always known about him, even before you were friends. But after Jane killed him in the office ward, she took you to her place and told you about everything that had happened. She never talks about him, never opens up about how scared she was. The only reason you knew before was because you asked frost about the scars and he told you, but not much. Recently, she sat you down and she tried her very best not to cry. You held her hands and you told her that it didn't make her any smaller a person.

She's brave.

You know this because you've watched her from the side as she chases down perps. She's been to hell and back, but she will always be a detective. That is _who she is. _

When you say her name, she looks at you and a grin spreads across her cheeks. She's always happy to see you and that will always make you grateful. Sometimes you have to bite your lips to stop the words you want to say from escaping your mouth. _I love you. _

"So, Jane Doe, found her this mornin' outside a bar downtown. Thought i'd wait for you and we could ride over together. Apparently it's a messy one."

You nod quietly, take the coffee and follow her to her car. She's tired and she's despondent, you know that no one else will notice, but you always arrive at the scene within 10 minutes and take a moment to find yourself before facing the swarm of press that always wait outside for answers that you never give them. Who are they to wonder about the dead? who are they to hover around these places? Who are they to live a normal life and travel in colonies to the next murder, aching for details so that they get paid? _Who are they? _

"Jane Doe, looks about 17, GSW to the right shoulder and chest. Probably here a couple of hours before a passerby found her."

You kneel down on the hot cement and look at the young girl for a moment, taking in her delicate features, sighing at her perky blonde hair and running clothes. _How could people do this? _

When you get back to the morgue, Jane is quieter than when you first met her. She sits down on your sofa in the office and plays with her hands. She always rubs the scars when she's restless. In the summer, they don't hurt too much. You place a chart down on the desk and take a seat across from her. Then you wait.

"Hate seein' them so young." Her voice is raspy and weak and she doesn't look up from the scars on her hands when she talks. "Make's the job that little bit harder."

You know that this isn't what is bothering her, and for a moment you think you should leave her alone, but you can't do that.

"You look tired, Jane."

You watch as the expression on her face changes from stern to sad and her eyes go a little darker. She's been so tired lately, so worn down.

"You don't need to worry about me."

But you do. You always worry. When she's sick, when she's sad, when she's hurt. You always worry and no matter how hard you try not to; you just do.

"Jane."

"I've been having some nightmares." Her voice is lower, sadder.

"Hoyt?"

She sinks in on herself and her legs start to shake.

"It was such a long time ago. Why do I still think about it?"

"It's natural for the human mind to be triggered back to traumatic events over small changes. It's natural for you to be scared, a month after it happens or even a year."

"It's weak."

"Jane, don't do this to yourself. You don't think about him as much now. You haven't had a panic attack in over 4 weeks now. The nightmares aren't every night like they used to be. It's okay to remember and be a little scared."

"I had a panic attack last night." She looks up at you and her eyes are pleading. "What if he comes back? He already did, 2 months ago. Maur, what if he comes back again and finishes it off?"

You want to move closer to her, but you don't trust yourself with this action. You shuffle an inch and extend your arm to take her hand. "Maybe you should go back to Doctor Lockhart, she helped you through so much the last time."

She shakes her head immediately and flashes a desperate look towards you. She hates talking to people. "I don't think one panic attack and 4 nightmares call for therapy, I think I just need sleep."

But you know all to well that she's not telling the truth. Lately, she's been tired and you can see clearly that she is unraveling. Unraveling more than she did the last time, or the time before that. She's coming apart at the places that were already frayed. You want nothing more than to take her into your arms and protect her from everything, but you know that she wont let you. not right now.

She stands up to make her way to the fridge and hide her face from you, but you catch her swaying the moment her feet hit the ground, within a few seconds, you are catching her in your arms and she is limp and heavy against you.

"Jane?" You know that she is tired. You know she probably hasn't bothered to eat all day. You know that this is a mixture of emotions and exhaustion. But you can never help but worry. "Jane, wake up. Come on, open your eyes."

It takes a moment, but she groans lightly and she blinks her eyes open, letting them focus on your face. She stays that way for a while, huddled in your arms, staring into your eyes, and you wonder what she is thinking about.

Jane Rizzoli likes beer after a long day.

She likes to beat her brother at chess.

She can play piano. You never got to hear her play, she quit after Hoyt because her hands hurt too much and she never continued because it reminded her of how hurt she had been. But you like to imagine her hands playing soft arpeggios up and down the piano, you like to imagine her mind wandering away as she played some of the greats. All you could ever do was imagine.

She starts to shake and you rub your hands up and down her arms, trying to focus on showing her that you're there and that she's going to be okay. Hoyt is gone. He's not coming back.

"You're going to be okay, Jane. You're exhausted, I'm driving you back to my house, you can sleep in the guest bedroom and that way you will be able to get a good sleep."

Jane simply nods and you realise that she's completely given up. You realise that she finally realises that arguing is beyond the point. You realise that someone has taken the Jane Rizzoli you have come to love and carved out all of the emotions from inside of her. You realise that this is something you _have _to fix.

You're good at a lot of things. You're an academic marvel and your parents have spent your whole life talking about how unbelievably proud of their little Genius they are. You know numbers like normal people know song lyrics and you can define nearly every word in the oxford dictionary. You've travelled the world and you've seen more hurt and more beauty than most people would get to see in a lifetime. You're good at english and science and talking about the human body. When it comes to people though, you're not a genius. You don't understand human emotions as much as other people do. You don't understand why they so willingly cling to one another. You don't get the attachment they look for every day. You don't comprehend what it's like to need a best friend or what the point in relying on other people is. That is, until Jane came along.

The moment you met Jane Rizzoli, something inside of you shifted and changed, a gap filled up with something you'd never felt before. You began to communicate, with words instead of formula's and numbers. You began to tell her about your life and you began to realise how beautiful it was to listen to her talk about her own. You realised that, the second you met Jane Rizzoli, a part of you was filled with love. A kind of love you'd never been able to understand because, yes, you loved other people before, but those fireworks people talked about did not exist. But you met her and bright lights sparked inside of you, just by looking at her eyes. You felt a connection every second of every day and you realised that it was to her, that you wanted to touch her and be near her. You realised that you wanted to kiss her, but you also knew that there was a possibility that she couldn't feel the same way.

For exactly 8 months, you knew that Jane loved you back. You just never talked about it.

She was quiet when you pulled back the covers for her, and she barely smiled a thank you before getting under them and turning away from you. You could tell that she wanted you to stay, she was just too proud to say those words. You did though, you slept next to her and in the middle of the night, she took your hand into hers. Like she needed to feel your skin.

It was 3:20am when she jumped up in the bed, her face was covered in a light sheen of sweat and she was gasping, trying to grab any shred of air she could. You tried to talk to her to calm her, but she wasn't hearing you. Her face paled as she began to slump forward, lack of oxygen to the brain was making her pass out and you wouldn't let that happen again. So you sat in front of her, face to face, arms around her back, your legs around her waist and you talked to her.

"Jane, you're not in the basement with Hoyt. You're not in the room with Hoyt. You're here with me, Maura. You're safe. Come on, there's air and you can breathe it and you're safe with me. Don't go vasovagal on me."

She looked up, her eyes completely unfocused and you realised that she was searching for something. She was looking for something inside of you, and it didn't take you long to realise what she was looking for: _Hope. _

"That's good, You're doing good." You say as she begins to breathe easily and she sits up more confidently, and she's looking down at her shaking hands as if she's ashamed of something, or sorry for something. You're not sure, but you know that, whatever it is, it's not something she should worry about. You take both her hands into your own and she looks up at you with those large brown eyes full of emotion and you reach up and cup her cheek in your hand.

"You're a fighter, Jane."

"I'm a failure."

"You've come so far."

"I've fallen so many times."

"You are a _fighter." _

The second time you say it, a new look flashes across her eyes and her brows crease with confusion. As if she's been denying the true facts for a long time. As if she was never getting any better to begin with.

"He won, Maur."

You've never given anyone such a demanding look in your life and you shake your head with such force that it hurts. "No he did not. Remember what Korsak said, Jane. No one can break Jane Rizzoli unless you let them. You're so strong, _so so _strong. You've been so brave and you've been through so much, but you're here. You had a gunshot wound and you refused to let it stop you from being the detective you've always been, you walked when the doctors told you the pain would be too much. You used your hands two whole weeks before you should have. You've always been strong, you've always been a fighter."

"But that's not true, is it? From the moment I was taken by Hoyt, to the moment he left, I was his victim. Hell, i'm still his victim. He weakened me in life and then he tortured me in my dreams. How many apprentices has he trained, Maur? How many more people has he taught to hurt me? How many more people has he trained to kill me? How many times will he come to me in my sleep and stick those scalpels in me again…how many more times do I have to watch…" She stops mid sentence and looks back down to her hands, she doesn't bother to stop the tear that trails down her cheek, because there's no point in pretending now.

"Watch what, Jane?"

"watch him hurt you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the reviews/favs/follows! **

**I don't own Rizzoli and isles. **

Neither you, nor Jane have said anything to each other since the small conversation you had managed to get out of her earlier on in the evening. This wasn't because you didn't have support to offer her, or words to make the pain at least a little better, but because she had simply stood up and made her way to the guest room after speaking, leaving you alone in the living room to work through your thoughts.

Sometimes, late at night, when you are supposed to be sleeping, you think about what life would be like if you and Jane were together. You can never picture anything but a smile on her face and a laugh between your lips, because that's how it is even when you are just best friends. You have always known, really deep down, that there is no way that confessing your feelings could ruin what you and Jane have, because its something truly spectacular.

You're just scared. Because _what if. _

Before Jane, you would sit in the corner of the room observing people's facial expressions and you would wonder exactly what it was they would be thinking. You would eat dinner alone, while you dug deep into some medical marvel story in a huge pile of books that would forever be strewn out on the table in front of you. Before Jane, you laughed when you were supposed to, but never really because you wanted to. Because you never really understood.

But Jane changed you; from the very second you saw those eyes, even though she stood there in tacky clothes begging for a stale doughnut, you somehow felt a small light that had been broken fix itself inside of you. You started to talk to her, and she started to teach you without even realising what it was that she was doing. Because, to Jane Rizzoli, you are not just a walking encyclopaedia or 'queen of the dead' or an emotionally awkward stranger: To Jane, you have always been _Maura. _

It has taken you a long time to realise who exactly that is, but now you are starting to notice things about yourself you could never see before. You liked joking around with her on your lunch break, because you have a sense of humour. You like beer, because sometimes you don't _have _to drink wine that is better for your heart. You have realised that you have an ability to love another human being so much that it sometimes feels like you are about to collapse onto the ground and fall into oblivion. Thanks to Jane Rizzoli, it's okay to wear pyjamas on a sunday and watch silly television (that you don't enjoy, but why not pretend for her sake?) and it's _okay _to not always be calm and collective. It's _okay _to be a normal, non genius, human being.

You knock the door lightly and walk inside to find her laying on the bed with her legs up to her chest. You decide it's best not to speak and you take position next to her on the bed, feeling her instantly relax beside you makes you realise how much she needs you even when she walks away. You reach over and touch her arm.

"My mother once told me that, although it is okay to cry, it is not okay in front of strangers." You shuffle an inch closer and continue, "and she told me that this was because I was going to be a very accomplished woman one day. I would earn the respect of my fellow co-workers because I would be able to constantly hold a professional mind. Although, at the time, I felt as though this advice was incredibly useful and I was grateful for anything my mother taught me…i've come to realise that she was wrong."

You move even closer and your arm is touching Jane's. "Over the past three years of knowing you, Jane Rizzoli. I've learned something incredibly useful that I will take with me for the rest of my life. It's okay to feel things. It's okay to get emotional and cry, even if people are going to see me. I've learned that it doesn't make me any less professional to feel things. You've indirectly taught me to _not _be queen of the dead. Before you were in my life, I was a cold woman. Not in the sense that I wasn't nice to people, because i've always tried my very best to be polite and well mannered. However, I never felt things the way they were supposed to be felt. Isles have to push through it and be strong, thats just the way it is. I watch You hold back your feeling so much and I know that it is for entirely different reasons than myself, but you have unknowingly taught me time and time again that _it's okay to be sad." _

Jane takes a shuddering breath and turns to face you with tears in her eyes and a look that pleads you to continue.

"I've watched you for so long now. I've seen you at your best and your worst. I was there, watching, when you came back to work after Hoyt. We weren't as close back then, but I remember seeing you and thinking, god, what a wonderfully brave woman. There you were, standing with your badge and gun and a huge smile on your face when everyone clapped and cheered, because you wanted to be the detective you've always been. I was there with you when you recovered from the shooting. I was there, watching as you woke up and smiled to your mother because you were more concerned about showing her that you were okay, to deal with the pain you were feeling. I've been here this whole time, watching even when you don't realise that I am. I've seen you cry and held you while you dealt with things no human should ever have to deal with. I've watched you pick yourself up so many times and…"

You grab both her hands with the same gentleness she had grabbed yours during words of encouragement she had given you before after your conversation with Hoyt and she stares into your eyes.

"I _love _what you do. I _love _who you are. Your determination. Your resilience. Your patience. You are a _champion._"

"Maur…I-"

"shh," you run your hands through her hair and you smile. You wipe a tear away from her cheek with your thumb "Those scars that Hoyt left behind, those aren't a reminder of what he did. Those are a reminder of what you _survived. _against all the odds."

"But he hurt you."

There it is again. You sigh because you know that she is blaming herself and, even though it hurt and it terrified you, you also know that it isn't something she should be hurting herself over.

"He did. But that wasn't your fault. I am okay, see? I am safe and that is because of _you._"

"Every night I dream about it." she closes her eyes and takes another shuddering breath and when she looks back at you, her lips are trembling, she is finally opening up. "I dream that he comes back, that he watches me sleep, that he watches me through my window and he watches me go to work like he is waiting. Every single night, I wake up and I have to lock my doors again. It's irrational, because he is dead and he can't come back. It started out as small scary dreams and they got worse and worse an-"

"Jane…"

"No, don't…just let me finish, it's okay." she grips your hands to seek safety. "but then he started hurting you. Every night I watch him…I watch him kill you and, when I wake up, I have to remind myself that you're alive. You're okay. If he killed me, the world wouldn't lose anything particularly special, Maura. But, if he killed you, it would be like draining the water from the ocean and taking the oxygen from the air. The world would tremble and shake beneath our feet. The sky would turn dark as each star lost it's light. If he killed you…they would all feel it. I…I would…be gone."

You stare at her for a moment and the words are completely lost in your brain. All those years in fancy boarding school did nothing to prepare you for this moment right now.

"You know what you are, Jane? To me?"

"no."

"_You _are the stars and the universes and the light in the dark. You are the water I drink and the air I breathe and the ground I walk on. Just like you think that I might be to other people. Only, you are so much more than that. You are the parts of me that got lost when I was given away by my biological parents. You are the parts of my heart that pump the blood when it has no other reasons to pump. You are the moon and the sun and the first sign of pink blossoms in the spring. You are the reason I walk and talk and breathe….I hate that it has taken me so long to put it into words, and this isn't putting it into words because it isn't even half as much as what you are to me…God, Jane, I love you."

"I know you do, you're my best friend."

"_no." _she looks at you and her eyes are welling up even more. Tears spill down her cheeks so fast that you cant stop them with your thumb. You move so close that you feel her breath warm on your cheek. "I mean I _love _you. I love you like I've never loved anyone or anything in my _entire_ life. I want to be with you every second of every hour of every day. I want to hug you and hold your hand and I want to be beside you from now until the day that I die. I _love _you, Jane Rizzoli."

She doesn't tell you that she loves you back, because she doesn't need to. You can see it in her eyes, the way your words have built her up. The way your words are settling into her brain and heart and all the places that Hoyt left broken when he left. You can see her agreeing and loving you back without even a single word. She just looks at you and she nods once.

That is all that she manages before her face crumbles and she is leaning into you. Her sobs fill the air and her arms are reaching around you as though you are the only thing that can ever protect her from anything. You know that, even though she is falling apart, you can finally help put her back together.

You know that she will finally let you.

Jane Rizzoli likes to watch you sleep and she thinks you don't know.

Jane Rizzoli likes to kiss you the second you open your eyes in the morning.

Jane Rizzoli proposes on the second of may.

Jane Rizzoli agrees to eat your cake of choice as long as you agree on serving beer instead of champagne for the toast.

Jane Rizzoli is wearing her red sox jersey and you are wearing a white dress and she still looks like the most beautiful person on the planet.

Jane Rizzoli loves you.

Jane Rizzoli said _I do. _

You love Jane Rizzoli.


End file.
